


The First Days

by Sorrell



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Families of Choice, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Missing Scene, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 05:10:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13287681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorrell/pseuds/Sorrell
Summary: Everything that happened after the Chief found Eleven.Or, how Jim and El went from near-strangers to becoming the Hoppers.





	The First Days

 

 

 

 

Just after Christmas, right at the breaking point of winter, she came to him. She was still wearing what he had last seen her in, the pink dress and the long sleeve shirt he’d given to her after the Bath, now hopelessly filthy and smeared with muck. The jacket and hat she'd stolen from the hunter were the only things keeping her warm, her legs bare. He was so thankful the hunter had come in when the deputies were out and spoken directly to him. 

 

He'd told him his story about encountering a young girl, a runaway maybe, living in the woods and who had somehow knocked him out. He was bewildered at that, shaking his head as if to put a hallucination at bay, and that’s when Hopper knew for sure that it was her. 

 

Eleven. That’s the reason he had started leaving food for her in the first place, two weeks ago, a month after she had vanished in a cloud of the Demogorgon's ashes.

 

She had little reason to trust him to not to sell her out to the laboratory. _Again_ , he thought with no small amount of guilt, though she didn’t know that he had traded her location for access to the Gate. But it was life or death for Will, their only shot and he had to take it. For Joyce. And, if he didn’t push the thought away, for his own need to save a kid after he couldn’t save his own.

 

But he had helped her and her friends before, getting them away from the agents surrounding the bus and setting up the Bath for her. That was enough for her to reveal herself, wide-eyed with fear, trembling from the cold.

 

“Hey.” He called out to her softly, taking off his hat. He crouched down, as he would to coax any frightened creature towards him. “Do you remember me?”

 

She edged a little closer to him. “T-the Ch-chief.” She said through chattering teeth, her voice raw from disuse. 

 

“That’s right. My name’s Jim, Jim Hopper. You’ve been out here a long time.”

 

She nodded, her body still poised to run, a deer before flight.

 

“Do you want to come with me? I can take you someplace safe, someplace where you can have a bed and be warm and fed.”

 

“My own bed?” She gazed up at him, eyes shining over, the impossible dream Mike had spun for her before the Demogorgon echoing in her head. _My mom, she’ll get you your own bed..._

 

_Jesus, this kid’s been through a lot._ He couldn’t believe she’d been fending for herself for damn near two months, either in that horrible place where Will had been or out here in the freezing woods.

 

“Yup, your very own. Come on, let’s get you in the car.” 

 

Finally, she came close enough to him for him to lay a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

 

“Okay?” He asked her after she climbed in, gingerly reaching over her to buckle the lap belt.

 

“Yes.” She said simply. He closed her door, mindful of her feet, not missing the way she slumped against it. _She must be so exhausted._

 

He went around, started up the Blazer and cranked the heat on, hearing her sigh of relief as she put her red, chapped hands on the vent. He laid his jacket over her as a makeshift blanket and she was asleep before they’d gone a mile.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

He pulled up to his trailer, running a thousand necessities through his head. He should have prepared better for this, for her to come to him, but the disappearance of the food he left had felt a little unreal, as if the Eggos were swiped by a dextrous raccoon rather than a little girl in hiding. 

 

Thankfully it was late enough now that they hadn’t passed anyone else on the backroads, but he couldn’t keep her here. There was far too much of a risk of somebody dropping by unexpectedly, too much human traffic, too easy to access. He hustled inside, ripping the blankets off his seldomly-used bed, the one on his often-used couch, and the extras on the closet shelf, hurrying them out to the car. She stirred a little at the cold air when he opened the driver-side door, but he quickly draped the heaviest ones over her and she settled under the comforting weight of them. 

 

He headed back in, starting up a pot of water on the stove so he could give her a hot water bottle as well, then he started ransacking his home, much as he had in his search for the bug. Jim Hopper was a pragmatic man- his few sentimental belongings he’d already stored away besides one of Sara’s drawings taped up by the front door. 

 

Taking out his drawers, he dumped his clothes into trash bags without any care or concern, sticking clean towels on top. He also filled a box with the cleaning supplies under the sink, his bare bones toiletries, the first aid kit and the medicine in the cabinet. Laundry soap. The emergency gallon of water. From what he remembered, the cabin had cookware so he didn’t have to bother with lugging out skillets and pots, utensils. His kitchen was otherwise barren. He had some canned food and eggs, nothing else in the refrigerator but beer and a bit of shame. Hell, he didn’t even have butter or bread. _How am I going to make this work?_ He rubbed at his forehead. _Prioritize, Jim._

 

The cabin. A safe space, that’s the first thing they’d have to tackle, after he got some food into the kid. Shit, he better start her off light. He’d heard how to begin the refeeding of starved POWs back in ‘Nam. She wasn’t nearly as bad, of course, but she’d been skinny when he first met her, and now seemed dangerously underweight. He didn’t want to make her sick with a heavy meal. He rifled through the canned food, relieved to find some chicken noodle that wasn’t expired. He heated it up, poured it into a thermos for the morning. 

 

Thank God he hadn’t sold the place, even though he only went out there a few times a year for basic maintenance. Never shut off the power or water, the thought of having to go through the place with a flashlight too irritating to bother with when the utilities were low.

 

Furniture-wise, the cabin had everything they could need. Everything was protected under drop-clothes, so they shouldn’t be too dusty or worn. She would take the bedroom, have a room of her own. He’d have to outfit the outside with protective measures, of course, so he’d have to go to the hardware store. Locks, a tripwire, shotgun shells. 

 

Groceries, real food for her. He frowned. He was still going to have to go to work, so she was going to have to make her own lunches when he wasn’t able to come home for them. Luckily, as chief he could disappear a bit more easily than the deputies, but he still couldn’t take more than an hour for lunch most days. The cabin was a 10 to 15 minute drive from the station in good conditions. 

 

_She_  was going to need things. Her own clothes, entertainment, toiletries. Toys. He was going to have to go out of town for that, but for tomorrow, she could make do with his clothes. 

 

He threw his few bags and boxes into the back of the truck, went back inside one last time to shut off the gas, water, and breakers. Tucking the thermos of soup between them, he started up the engine and marveled at how she hadn’t woken up the entire time. She was so dead to the world he took a second to listen to the soft whistle of her breathing.

 

The country roads were dark and quiet, no sound but the passing of trees as they drove along, no lights but the stars and their own. 

 

He was so, so afraid. He hadn’t been, at first, with Sara. Thinking of her now, glancing at her blue band on his wrist, he'd been a fool.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

The bright golden light of morning slowly woke Eleven from the deepest, coziest sleep she’d ever had. The air was chilly but she was in a warm cocoon of heavy blankets, a faint smell of tobacco and wood. And for once, fear wasn't making her powers tingle at the front of her nose like a sneeze, no cold to make her numb. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d woken up this unafraid. She’d felt a little safe in the fort, but she could still sense the other members of the Wheeler family on the floors above her, a risk of discovery keeping her mind alert. In the lab, they’d regularly woken her up for monitoring and tests, possessing nothing but a thin sheet, her thin gown, her stuffed lion. And there was no comfort on the unyielding ground of the woods.

 

Cracking her eyes open, she looked around to see Hopper mirroring her on the other side of the truck, head tilted back against the window and snoring softly. They were parked on the side of a road that ended before them, nothing but gray barren trees as far as she could see. She wanted to go back to sleep, but her tense muscles made her shift around and at her movement, Hopper jolted awake.

 

“Wha-?” He said, garbled in a way that made her quirk her lips. He looked around confused until he saw her, still wearing the hunter’s cap, dirty face just visible over her blanket mountain.

 

“Oh. Oh.” Rubbing at his eyes, he stretched as much as he could in the cramped space. “Good morning. How are you feeling? Better?” He asked.

 

She nodded, the first time he’d ever seen her look close to content. 

 

“Yeah, I bet. Here.” He wiggled around until he found the thermos. He shook it, unscrewed the top and handed it to her after she freed her arms from the surrounding cloth. “There’s some soup in there. Chicken noodle. You can just drink it but be careful, it might be hot. Just try a little.”

 

Never one to be suspicious of food, especially when her stomach was clenched with hunger, she heeded his words and gave it a sip to test the temperature. It was heavenly to have something warm. Finding wild game wasn’t a daily occurrence for her in the woods, and making a fire was always risky. She hadn’t chanced it after she had encountered that hunter. 

 

She managed to have half of it before she handed it back to him, wishing she could drink it all, struggling out of the blankets now that she was too hot. He grinned at her, tugging a few of them away before he polished off the rest of the soup. They didn’t talk, just sat and listened to the birds chirping. That was how their first meal together was spent, much the same as their future ones would be. Later, Hopper would teach her _contemplation_.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Hopper nearly laughed to see her expression after he got his dance moves out of his system. As chief of police, he didn’t have many opportunities to be less than serious, besides cracking jokes at his deputies or dodging Flo’s mothering. Clearing away the clutter near the wood-burning stove, he coaxed it into giving off some heat as they peeled off their jackets, hanging them up by the door, Eleven finally taking off the hunter cap. She looked totally different with her hair a bit longer. Before, the buzzed length was so striking, it’s what everyone noticed first- before her enormous eyes, her elfish nose. Maybe that would come in handy later, let her pass under the radar of a small town’s suspicious ways. 

 

He gave her a minute to take in the cabin, its one bedroom, the other small bed in the corner, the formica countertops and the chrome-framed table from the 50’s.  _Home_. At least, he hoped that’s what it would become as her eyes curiously roved over every cobwebbed beam in the ceiling, every covered stick of furniture.

 

If there was any higher power, it was responsible for him having the next two days off. He couldn’t have left her now if he tried.

 

They got to work.

 

This was a brand new world for her, and he could watch her discover things for hours. Coughing as dust flew into the air. The unpleasant stickiness of cobwebs. Bouncing on her new bed, the first smile he’d ever seen on her face. Clueless as to how to use a broom. That ticked him off- what girl her age hadn’t seen _Snow White_ or  _Cinderella_? He’d have to go out to Family Video and rent it. Did they ever show her any movies? Did she ever have any toys besides the stuffed lion in that clinical room?

 

They worked for a few hours before they plopped down on the swept floors, sweating now in the warm rooms- they could use a proper mopping, but as he didn’t have one, that’d have to do for now- and he glanced at Eleven, realizing that she was still wearing the clothes she’d been wearing for weeks.

 

“Okay kid, I think you could use a bath.” He got up, intent on finding any clothes of his that could fit her and a washcloth and towel, not noticing how fear was etched in her face. He looked at her to judge if she could just wear a shirt of his as a dress and swore at her expression.

 

“ _Shit_. _Shit_ , do not say that. Not that kind of bath, Eleven- El.” Name or not, he felt a little uncomfortable calling her that. And it was risky to use. El sounded like Elle, a perfectly normal name, if he was ever overheard. Not the one the scientists had used. “A normal bath. Or a shower, but that curtain’s too mildewed, we should toss it and get a new one.” Shit. What if the lab people had always scrubbed her down? They had kept her hair buzzed. And if there was one thing he knew about people, he knew there was no bottom to depravity. “Do you know how to wash yourself?” 

 

Calm now, she tilted her head slightly to each side, considering. _Kind of_. She’d hardly said anything the entire day, the complete opposite of the typical chatterbox young girl on the sitcoms he rarely watched. Then again, he suspected that nothing about her would ever be typical.

 

“Okay, well, let’s see.” He hefted the box of toiletries over to the bathroom, dug out his longest flannel shirt. He had an ancient pair of suspenders that could possibly hold up a pair of the soft thermal pants he wore this time of year, and clean socks.

 

He set down the pile by the tub, putting the first aid kit and medicine aside. Fiddling with the handles, he showed her how to get it to a comfortable temperature and how to use the stopper to start filling it up.

 

“Here’s shampoo, that’s for your hair, all right? Start with that, and then rinse it out. You’ve gone without for a while, so you might want to do it twice, until you feel clean. Rinse with clean water. Then put the soap in the washcloth, splash a little water on it and go like this till it makes some foam, okay?” He said, demonstrating.

 

He handed it to her and had her try for herself. She looked up at him, pleased as it lathered. “Good, and then put the soap aside and use the cloth on your skin until you feel clean. Your whole body, especially between your toes.” A distant echo of Sara’s laughter rang in his head, _this little piggy_  and the swish of her brightly colored bath toys in the water. “And unfold the cloth, like this, to get your back.” He showed her with a dry washcloth the awkward mechanics of it. He heard a little giggle from her, and heart leaping, turned back to her with a smile. 

 

“You got it?” She nodded. “Okay, then I’m going to go get us groceries for lunch, so I’ll be back soon.” He frowned. “Do you know if you’re allergic to anything?”

 

She stared at him blankly and he sighed. _Shit_. “Allergic means that sometimes people eat a food that’s dangerous for them, makes them sick.” She still seemed puzzled but shook her head. _Trial by fire then._

 

“Okay. I’ll be back.” 

 

“Eggos?” She asked, looking hopeful. He squeezed her shoulder.

 

“I’ll pick some up.” 

 

She followed him to the edge of the bathroom, pulling the sliding accordion door so that there was just a sliver to peek out of. “Privacy.” El told him matter-of-factly.

 

Hopper felt like there was some importance to it that he wasn’t getting. “Privacy, yup. Baths are private things. See you soon.”

 

She closed the door all the way.

 

His heart raced as he shut the door behind him and started heading down to the Blazer, the familiar bubbling of worry returning to his chest.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

“Joyce.” He asked her when he stopped into Melvald’s to pick up some supplies before he headed to the grocery store. “Can you do me a favor?”

 

She blinked at him, distracted, undoubtedly running through her mental checklist of everything she had to take care of that day. Luckily, it seemed like the post-Christmas return rush had finished off yesterday. She swept her hair behind her ear.

 

“Sure, Hop, what is it?” 

 

“Can I borrow your car tomorrow? Around noon. I have something to do and I want to be a little less conspicuous. I’ll fill up the tank for you.” 

 

She waved him away. “No need, just stop in whenever to get my keys.”

 

“You’ll be all right? You can take the Blazer if there’s an emergency.”

 

She smiled at him, happy to see him and get a break from the more curmudgeonly customers that stopped in on weekday afternoons.

 

“Yeah, I’ll be okay, I’m not off until 5 anyway. Jonathan’s at home with Will and Bob over at the Radio Shack can always give me a lift if I need it.”

 

“Okay, thanks, I appreciate it.” He tipped his hat at her as he walked away. Everything they’d gone through with Will had changed things between them, brought them back from being friendly but distant acquaintances to someone they could trust with the craziest of circumstances. But this, El, he was unwilling to trust to anyone but himself.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

He came home with more canned soup, sandwich fixings, eggs and potatoes, frozen dinners, bread and butter, maple syrup and two boxes of Eggos, lotion for her cracked hands. Setting everything down on the little island, he checked on her, looking sleepy and sparkling clean, short hair dripping onto the couch. 

 

“Oh, your hair, here.” She’d carefully put her towel onto the sink's counter, probably unsure what to do with it. Her ruined pink dress, flannel, and socks laid balled up on the floor. He brought her towel over to her and gently started to blot her head dry. 

 

“How was your bath? Feel better?” He asked her.

 

She nodded enthusiastically at him, waking up a little bit. “Yes.” She told him in her stolid way.

 

“Ready for some food?” He continued on, moving from the bathroom to hang up her towel and then back into the kitchen. She followed on his heels, looking comically swamped in his clothes, yawning and rubbing her eyes.

 

She spotted the familiar yellow boxes and Hopper barely managed to snatch it out of the air as she summoned it towards her, a little stunned at the show of telekinesis. He’d only seen her powers with the Bath, her voice coming in on the radio from another dimension, _the flea_. 

 

Recovering quickly, he wiggled the box at her, the golden discs sliding around. “Uh-uh, real food first, then dessert.” She pouted a little but watched curiously as he started putting away everything into the fridge. He showed her the little freezer compartment. “Your Eggos go in there to keep them cold until they’re ready to eat.” 

 

He set out the sandwich supplies, made sure the dishes weren’t dusty. “Sorry, kid, I'm not a very good cook.” He told her.

 

"Me too," She said and looked delighted to see him laugh. 

 

He made her try a small bite of turkey, waiting a few minutes before testing the ham out too. _Are people even allergic to ham?_  When she showed no reaction, he started heating up some tomato soup on the stove, teaching her about how to use it safely, and layering the sandwiches. There was a pre-made salad he’d bought to go with it. He passed the dishes over to her and gestured to put them on the table, pouring glasses of water from the tap. 

 

Despite being a simple meal, she looked blissed-out at the taste of everything. They must have fed her gray nutritional slop in the lab. The mustard side had won her favor over the mayonnaise side, and he swapped his mustard-turkey half for her mayo-ham. After her transcendental Eggo with butter and syrup, El was nearly nodding off into her plate, finally clean and fed and warm. 

 

Hopper threw a fresh set of sheets onto her bed and went back, leaning her against his shoulder and picking her up. It should have felt a little weird to carry her, but it didn’t, and that was a little weird. That she already seemed to trust him not to hurt her was astonishing to him, made something clench in his chest. He braced her head against him with his hand as he leaned down to lay her on her bed, just as he had with Sara. The movement still felt familiar, practiced, like no time had passed at all. He covered her with a pink quilt that his mother had handed down to him, _for your daughter_ , she’d said. He pushed the thought away.

 

“Okay, go have a nap. I’ll wake you up in an hour, all right? Or else you’ll be nocturnal.”

 

“Noc-turn-al?” She murmured.

 

“Like animals that move around at night instead of the day.” 

 

“Oh,” She slurred, thinking for the briefest of moments about those beautiful birds in the woods, passing overhead in the dark on silent wings as she lay curled in the dry and dying leaves, and then she was out like a light.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

After he woke her up, they set up the tripwire together. Thankfully, his grandfather had been a handyman and had his tools set up in the small backroom where the washer was. They’d have to hang their clothes inside to dry though. He didn’t bother to wash El’s old clothes, though he did start a cycle for the jacket and hat. Jim could call a spade a spade- they were so battered and dirty they’d have to be tossed. Still near-strangers to each other, he wondered if she’d be sentimental over them. They were probably the only clothes she’d ever had that were hers. He measured her shoe against his arm to avoid the guesswork when he got her a new pair before placing them in the bag.

 

The rest of the day flew by in small necessities- he laid out the ground rules, taught her the knock, put the frankly excessive amount of locks he’d bought onto the door, got the radio working again. Soon enough, they were sitting down to dinner and then it was washing faces, brushing teeth with the new toothbrush he’d gotten her at Melvald’s, things he hadn’t done near another person in a long, long time. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, observing him carefully before mimicking his actions. Not for the first time, he felt a rush of tenderness for her, trying so hard to learn.

 

He watched her crawl into bed and pulled out the one book he’d taken from his trailer. She already looked drowsy, but he thought it’d be a good thing to start and read her the first chapter. Make it a tradition.

 

Clearing his throat, he began, “Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow…”

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

“Come on, scoot all the way down.” He instructed her, adjusting the pillow underneath her head. She looked at him, opened her mouth and closed it.

 

“What?” He smiled at her. Her brow furrowed and she was struggling for the words.

 

“You’re not sure what to call me?” He guessed, and guessed right. She nodded.

 

“Well, you can say Jim, or Hopper. I don’t mind either.”

 

“Jim.” She said quietly. “Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.” His eyes itched a bit. "Good night, El. Wake me up if you need something.” He left the door open a crack so he’d hear her if she did.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

“And you can make another sandwich for lunch when you get hungry, all right? I’ll be back in a few hours.” He told her after they had breakfast the next day. 

 

She’d looked at his coffee cup with curiosity, but wrinkled her nose and looked at him with betrayal after he let her have a sip. Hopper laughed, saying, “Black coffee isn’t to most kids’ taste. Too bitter. But maybe you’ll like it when you’re older, with some cream and sugar.” He’d pick up some tea and cocoa next time he got groceries, let her try those out too. They washed the dishes together, El on drying duty. She carefully swirled the towel over every detail of their plates and cups.

 

“Wait till you hear my knock, and don’t go outside.” He reminded her. Closing the door, he stood on the porch until he heard the locks clicking.

 

His heart ached a little at the thought of leaving her alone for most of the day, having her make do with her own devices. Not just for today, but every day when he had to work. But there was no way for him to hire a teacher for her. Even if it wasn’t a huge risk, he’d have to come up with a way to explain the gaps in her knowledge. Instead, he’d have to get some textbooks, make time in the evenings for them to go through them together. God, what did he even remember from middle school? 

 

Stopping to swap out for Joyce’s Pinto, he was on his way to the nearest city big enough that he could shop without recognition. He stopped at the Goodwill first, aimlessly throwing in whatever clothes he thought would fit her from the boy’s and girl’s sections: long sleeves, fleece pajamas, overalls and jeans, some flannel shirts for himself. A few more books.

 

“New clothes for your kids?” The cashier asked as she bagged them up.

 

“They’ve been outgrowing everything like crazy. Twins.” He told her amiably.

 

“Oh yeah, tell me about it, I got three of my own. Ain't no point in buying brand-new.” She said with fond exasperation as she handed them to him. 

 

Then he went to Meis for the things he _did_  need to buy new- socks, undershirts and underwear, leggings, a pair of sneakers much like her old ones. A teddy bear. Some board games and puzzles, coloring books and crayons, a music box and other things for her room that he thought she might like. 

 

Then Longs Drugs for conditioner, hair bands and bobby pins for her hair as it grew out, and sanitary napkins. She was probably too young to need them, but better to be prepared and have them on hand than chance buying some in Hawkins. The doctors had probably never taught her about periods. For all the testing they’d done on her, she probably didn’t know much about the body besides the mind. At least he wasn’t squeamish about it. You don’t serve in Vietnam without learning how to deal with blood. 

 

He asked the cashier if there was a teacher’s supply store in town and swept through everything available, picking up textbooks and worksheets, flashcards, notebooks and pencils and highlighters, stickers and a map of the world. 

 

Finally through, he was anxious to get home. The Pinto’s engine trucked along on the drive back to Hawkins.

 

He filled up the tank.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

The morning of his first day back at work, she hovered around him in the kitchen, watching him cook with fascination. He started to tell her he would usually come home around 5-3-0 and wanted to curse when he remembered what day it was.

 

"I'm sorry, kid, tonight I'll be back late. I have to go with Joyce and Will to a doctor's appointment. You have your schoolwork to go through now at least." He told her as he flipped the Texas toast he was making, reaching over to ash his cigarette. He turned around to find her gaping at him, eyes huge. There was a slight tremor rattling the dishes.

 

"Will's okay?" 

 

“Jesus, did I not tell you-“ Hopper stopped. “Yes, Joyce and I managed to get him out just in time. He’s fine now, they just want to monitor him for a while. That was the deal.”

 

Overwhelmed with relief, she was crying hard, brushing at her eyes. El hadn’t sensed Will in the Upside-Down, but she wasn’t sure if that meant… _gone_. She’d been afraid to know. He had been so weak and pale when she had found him in Castle Byers.

 

“Hey, hey, come here.” He set the skillet aside and she came flying into his chest, sobbing. He wrapped his arms around her, brushing over her short hair. This was the first time he’d ever embraced her, and he couldn’t believe how tiny she was. Fine-boned, like a sparrow. One that took out a monster when bullets and a blaze had failed. 

 

“You helped save him, you know.” He murmured. She was calming down, the cups and forks settling into place too. “One day, you’ll get to meet him properly.”

 

"I'm..." She paused, searching for the right word. "Glad. Glad he's okay".

 

"Me too, kid." He said, thinking of Joyce begging, curling over his body, the wail of Sara’s EKG machine as it flatlined, Will's gasp of life. "Me too." 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

It was a few days, surprisingly, before she mentioned what would become the biggest thorn in his side.

 

“Mike?” She looked at him, eyes already pleading with him.

 

“Wheeler? What about him?”

 

“I’m okay.” She’s looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to fill in the gaps of her language. 

 

“You can’t see him, it’s too risky-“

 

“Not _see_ , tell.” 

 

“You want me to tell Mike Wheeler that you’re okay?”

 

She nodded. “Please.”

 

Hopper sighed, shook his head, disappointing her already. “Kid, I can’t do that. He might still be under surveillance- people from the lab watching him, tailing him all the time. And if he knows you’re here, telling won’t be enough, he’ll have to see you. One word picked up in his house, and then they’ll find you.”

 

Tears filled her eyes, but she nodded. 

 

Later, he came in from smoking on the porch to find her sitting in front of the TV shrieking with static, eyes blindfolded with one of his dress socks, nose already bleeding. It was freaky, like those Poltergeist movie posters.

 

“El? El!” He shook her gently, but it she didn’t respond to him. And then he realized she wasn’t actually there, her consciousness at least. She was divining, like what she had done in the Bath. Apparently, her powers had grown strong enough that full sensory deprivation wasn’t necessary anymore, these could do the trick. He wanted to unplug the TV, to make her stop, but didn’t want to harm her. So he waited beside her, instead.

 

A few minutes later, she tugged off the blindfold with a gasp, face pale and veins prominent. A few teardrops ran down her cheeks.

 

“Did you see him?” He asked. It would be a while before she had the words to explain what the Void looked like to him, little islands of places and people in the glassy black water, disappearing like smoke.

 

She nodded. “He was talking to me.” Voice breaking, she continued, "He was sad.” _Devastated_ , she would later learn. _Heartbroken. Grieving_. The exact same feelings she’d had when she’d realized she couldn’t go to him, as she ran from his house and huddled alone in the hidden crawlspace of overhanging tree roots. Except Mike thought she was _gone_. The need to see him, talk to him, be close to him was like a hot ember, burning in her chest all the time, growing worse every minute of every day. 

 

Hopper sighed, gently brushing his hand over her hair. "I'm sorry, kid."

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

She watched too much TV, but he couldn’t hold that against her. It was helping her pick up some words, at least. He rented a VCR and some movies once in a while, when he had the time to go out to the small video shop in Terre Haute. She’d been hypnotized by _Cinderella_ , barely blinking, the cabin lights flickering as the evil stepsisters tore at her dress as though she could stop them. She rewatched it so much she’d probably burnt out the tape by the time it was due back. Every night in a row, he'd heard one of the songs playing faintly as he waited for the locks to slide open. _So this is love, sing sweet nightingale, a dream is a wish your heart makes_.

 

So he made the most out of the few nightly hours they had together, heads bent over her textbooks. She knew the basics- how to read and write, though she didn’t have much practice with either. Her history knowledge and math skills were just as rudimentary, and he started quizzing her all the time. States and their capitals in between bites as they sat down for lunch, multiplication tables as they straightened up. Science was interesting to her- once she realized she would get an explanation, even if she had to wait for him to look it up, she always wanted to know _why_. El was sharp, her mind like a steel trap for information.

 

And once they started reading together, _Anne of Green Gables, Charlotte’s Web, Alice in Wonderland_ \- he’d have to rent that too- she was picking it up faster and faster. He didn’t usually act out the voices, but he couldn’t resist with the Caterpillar, remembering his odd, stuffy voice from the film and gotten the biggest laugh out of her yet.

 

He paused to drink some water and she had an odd expression on her face.

 

“What is it?"

 

“Nobody…talked.”

 

He blinked at her. “Who? The people at the lab?” The obvious answer. Definitely couldn’t be her loudmouth friends.

 

She nodded.

 

“They never talked to you?” 

 

Another nod. He could picture it. Everyone moving around her silently, like enemy chess pieces with the goal to avoid. Setting down her food and walking away, giving reports to that asshole scumbag Brenner. Never comforting her. Certainly not in the way Joyce had soothed her in the Bath when she was frightened. Why she didn’t know so many words, because she’d never heard them in conversation.

 

He was suddenly so viscerally angry he had to control himself from hitting something. How could they treat a little girl like that? Especially a girl like her. He closed his eyes, took a breath. Another one.

 

“Scoot over, kid.” 

 

Her dark eyes, always scrutinizing his reaction as if piecing together a foreign language, looked confused. As she wiggled over and moved her teddy bear aside, he sat next to her, his legs nearly reaching the end of the bed. He tucked her into his side and opened the book one-handed.

 

“Where were we?”

 

She smiled at him with crinkled eyes, even more so as he startled, the pages flipping themselves in a flurry as she got them back to the right spot. 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

They slowly made their way through the holidays.

 

He got the TV working just before New Year’s Eve, picking up party hats, party blowers and sparkling apple cider on his way home. She liked it, the bright colors, nose wrinkling at the fuzzy feeling of the carbonation. They put on the early broadcast of _Rockin’ Eve_ and watched the ball drop in Times Square, and she was utterly entranced by it all. Hopper hadn’t picked up any sparklers, of course. Even if they didn’t attract attention, they were dangerous. He always had nightmarish shifts on firework holidays and was especially glad to have this one off. A teenager had to get their hand sewed up just about twice a year, like the last New Year’s he’d worked. What did he even do year before last? He couldn’t remember. Probably drank until he fell asleep.

 

Paying closer attention to the calendar, he taught her about Martin Luther King Junior a few weeks later out of one of the social studies books he’d picked up for her, turning it into a lesson, albeit a meandering one as he thought of more things to mention. She was completely appalled when she realized how black people were treated during those times. That they hadn’t been allowed to go to school with him, when he was a boy. It took her a while to even understand the concept and when she did, she was **mad**.

 

“Lucas is a good friend.” She’d told him fiercely. He ruffled her hair in response, already pitying the next bully to cross her path. She painstakingly read the "I Have a Dream” speech out of the book, dictionary beside her for the hard words and writing down scrawled notes to ask him later.

 

Heart-shaped pancakes for Valentine’s Day, a picked bunch of shamrocks on the dining table so they could look for a four-leaf clover on St. Paddy’s (they didn’t find one, but it’s the looking that matters), even a prank for April Fool’s when he swapped frozen pancakes into a box of Eggo’s and waited around, drinking his coffee. She’d pulled them out, shocked still, and he howled with laughter at the look on her face for a full minute before reaching behind the bag of peas to get the Eggos. She whacked him lightly with the bag of pancakes, laughing a little despite herself. 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Just like that, the days started flying by. Summer was frustrating, the inside of the cabin bright and hot, sun searing past the blinds. One time he found Eleven just laying sprawled out flat in some sunbeams on the wooden floor, staring up at the shaded window. It was clear she was miserable, and it frustrated him that he couldn’t do anything to change it, had to keep her from her friends, but they had to continue on the way they were. He wished he could get her a pet, but a dog could attract attention, a cat could escape. Even going outside in the wilderness behind the cabin, they could encounter a stray hiker.

 

Their fights escalated, her door slamming shut, getting headaches from how long she stayed in the Void, and his resolve to let her friends know nearly cracked. But all he had to do was picture the cold sterile halls of the laboratory, scientists buzzing around every floor like a hive, the microfiche newspapers: Terry Ives fighting for her daughter to come home until they took away her ability to do anything at all. If they got a hold of El, they would never see her again. Sometimes in the dull stretches of paperwork at the station, he’d picture agents pulling up to the cabin, coming home to a broken down door and- _No_. No, he told himself, his heart beating in his throat, as though imagining it would make it happen. _We don’t take risks_. 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Somehow, the first days had become _now_ , nearly a year to the day he’d found her. The lab was chained up and dark, a mausoleum, no longer humming with electricity. Her nerd friends were coming over for the first time tomorrow, in carefully staggered drop-offs from Jonathan and Nancy and Steve. They’d undoubtedly run him ragged all day, making hot drinks and lunch, being unbearably loud in the small space. But today, Christmas, was just for the two of them. They were still in their pajamas and sleep-tousled hair in the detritus of torn wrapping paper and the fallen pine needles of their small tree, her presents in a pile on the couch. The last of their first holidays together. 

 

He handed her his last gift unceremoniously, and watched her face with an anxious heart. El frowned as read it, puzzling out the meaning, before she looked at him, eyes wide. She pointed at herself, Sara’s blue band circling her wrist, and he nodded.

 

Tears spilling over, she smiled broadly. “Family?” She asked.

 

“Yes.” He said. “We’re family."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a comment if you did, they make my day. :) 
> 
> If you liked this and Eleven & Hopper-centered fics, please check out my other work, The Light of a Beautiful Sun, here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12761571
> 
> I did a small amount of research on this: Blockbuster didn't open until 1985 but there were some video rental stores before that and they would actually rent out the VCRs too because they were about $1,000 (!) to buy one.


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